The pod was strangely silent; the cadets, ordinarily brimming with dash and bravado, seemed veiled in their own thoughts. Every face wore a look of rapt wonder. Spence suspected that he himself appeared as goggle-eyed as the rest of them.
Olmstead Packer swam into the center of the pod and called his group to attention. “Hear ye, hear ye!” he said, wheeling slowly through the air. “We will wait until everyone is suited up before popping the hatch. I want to check each suit myself before you step out on the surface. I’ve got a yellow sticker to put on each helmet that lets me know I’ve checked you out. Anyone who fails to get his suit checked won’t get another chance to play outside. Understood?”
The shaggy red head turned to regard Spence and Adjani as well. “That goes for you, too, gentlemen. Same as for all first-timers.”
Just then a rattling shudder passed through the pod followed by a low-pitched vibration which built to a muffled roar and died away almost before it began.
“That’ll be one of the other pods going down now,” said Packer as he dived for his seat. “Happy landing, gentlemen!”
All braced themselves for the blast that would send them streaking toward the surface of the Red Planet. They heard the thrum of the engine and then a whoosh as if gale force winds had passed over them. In the same instant they felt themselves pressed gently back into the jumpseat cushions as the illusion of weight returned.
To Spence it seemed as if they fell like a rock dropped from a mountain peak. The burnt orange of the Martian landscape spun crazily as the pod descended, looming larger and even larger in the port until individual landmarks could be discerned. They fell alarmingly close to the surface, considered Spence, before he remembered that Mars’ atmosphere was very thin and did not extend far out into space. Still, it seemed as if they would smash down upon the red rocks rushing up at them. At the last minute the pod turned itself around and the engines sent forth a staccato burst to slow their descent.
The next thing he felt was a slight bouncing jolt—as if he were aboard an old-fashioned elevator which had reached its floor. He half expected a chime to sound and the doors to open. Instead, the pod erupted with the cheers of the cadets who threw off their webbing straps and jumped to their feet to clap one another on the back in the jubilation of all travelers who arrive safely at their destination.
From the racks behind each seat they took down the elasticized surface suits and began wriggling into them. The suits designed for Mars were simple, tight-fitting polymerized one-piece elastic suits much like ocean divers wore. All the necessary pressure was supplied by the girdling effect of the elastic. A mushroom-shaped helmet attached to a wide neck seal on the suit completed the ensemble. The helmet had a hemispherical visor which allowed full vision in every direction. At the back of the helmet, a built-in canister held oxygen pellets for extended rambling on the surface of the planet.
When all helmets were in place, the hatch was popped and each explorer filed past Packer who stood at the portal and affixed his yellow triangular stickers to each helmet as he checked each suit. Spence stood last in line behind Adjani and, after the onceover by Packer, stepped out into the rust-colored world.
He bobbed down the steps of the hatch and walked a few paces in the red dirt that powdered beneath his feet. His motions were exaggerated and springy—an effect of the reduced gravity of Mars. He grinned from ear to ear with the exhilaration of just being there, a human being treading on alien soil. He felt strong, invincible—also an effect of reduced gravity.
He scanned the horizon of the planet and was surprised to find how close it was and how sharp the curve. He turned to scan the points of the compass. Everywhere he turned the same dull red, brick-colored dirt met his gaze, as if he were lost in a monochromatic desert. Rocks of various sizes poked through the red soil; some of these were a shade or two lighter or darker than the dirt around them, providing the only contrast he could see.
At the horizon the sky burned a brilliant blue, as if infused with fire. The blue gradually darkened to jet black directly overhead. Spence soon found that this changed dramatically depending upon the time of day. At high noon the sky was pink. At sunset it glowed with golden warmth at the horizon while stars shone hard and bright above like gems spilled out upon a cloth of blackest velvet.
Low in the sky one of Mars’ tiny twin moons hovered above the faraway mountain range. At least Spence took it to be faraway. Without a heavy atmosphere to distort images and clothe them in misty shrouds, objects and landforms on Mars appeared hard-edged and distinct whether close at hand or faraway.
Across a stretch of the arid soil he viewed a loose assemblage of buildings huddled, dome-shaped like a cluster of toadstools— the terraforming installation, one of five on the planet—but whether it stood two kilometers or ten distant, he could not tell.
He heard a buzzing in the air and turned to find its source. He was surprised to see Packer standing atop the hatchway with his helmet in his hands shouting at them as his face grew bright red.
“Take off your helmets!” he called. Through the helmet’s insulation the words sounded as if he were shouting at them from one end of a very long hose.
Tentatively Spence grasped the sides of his helmet and gave it a sideways twist. He heard the pressure hiss away and felt his ears pop as if he had suddenly leaped to a high altitude.
He took a breath and found that he could not stop inhaling.
“It’s all right,” Packer said a little breathlessly. “Just breathe easy. Don’t overdo it. Relax and let your body adjust to it.”
There were oohs and ahhs all around as the cadets experienced this wonder of breathing the thin Martian air.
“I wanted you to see that you can breathe without a helmet if necessary. The atmosphere is still mostly carbon dioxide— that’s why your lungs feel as if they can’t get enough. But we have been able to enrich the atmosphere by a few percentage points. There is enough oxygen to support life for short periods of time if you do not tax it. You could not run or even walk quickly before you passed out. But you will not die of suffocation, either, if you don’t exert yourself.
“Your more immediate danger is the temperature. I’m sure you are all aware that during the day the temperature this time of year is a uniform 25 degrees Celsius. As the sun goes down the temperature plunges to minus 105. Your suits offer some protection from the violent swing in temperature, but they are not designed to be used during the chill of a Martian night.”
Packer raised his helmet over his head. “All right, put your helmets back on and let’s track it to the installation.” He pointed toward the cluster of buildings.
Spence raised his helmet and paused to breathe once more the incredibly dry, thin air, tasting its metallic tang on his tongue. He closed his eyes and drew it deep into his lungs where it burned with tingling fire. It seemed almost as if he were standing on a mountaintop—the effect was the same.
“Remarkably like the Himalayas,” said a voice beside him.
He opened his eyes and grinned at Adjani standing at his elbow. “I was thinking of the Rockies, myself. I’ve never been to the Himalayas.”
They replaced their helmets and Spence tasted the sweet oxygen as he breathed it in. He adjusted the voice amplifier so that he could speak to Adjani—Adjani did the same—and they trudged off behind the bouncing column of cadets with Packer in the lead.
The terraforming project was in its fifth year on Mars. At the present stage it took the form of enormous greenhouses filled with broad-leaf plants genetically engineered to be virtual oxygen factories. The greenhouses pumped in the carbon dioxide of Mars and flushed out the oxygen waste of the plants. Beneath the greenhouses, nuclear reactors maintained optimum temperatures, heating the plants through long, impossibly cold nights.
The greenhouses were established and working according to plan. This trip inaugurated phase two of the project: melting the enormous polar ice cap of the planet.
There was water on Mars; the
first Voyager probes had discovered that. But it was mostly locked up with the carbon-dioxide ice at the poles. Although some minute part existed as water vapor, it was not enough to sustain plant life. By melting the polar ice, it was hoped that enough water vapor might be released to allow the planet to begin rebuilding an earth-type atmosphere. As the amount of oxygen and water vapor in the atmosphere grew, the temperature would stabilize and the mineral-rich soil— though dry as desert sand—would perhaps support some varieties of plant life, and later animals and eventually man.
Terraforming was a bold idea that seemed bound to work, given enough time. Packer planned an expedition to the poles to view various sites where nuclear devices might be planted to melt the dry ice. He was anxious that the terraforming of Mars be complete within his lifetime. “I want to see my grandchildren romping over the lush, green landscape of Mars,” he told his cadets. He was far more taken with this project than with the plasma drive. Still, the first colonies were decades away.
Little red clouds of dust rose from the tramping feet of the cadets as they moved along the trail. By the time they reached the installation, an octopus arrangement of buildings with the central barracks surrounded by the long rows of greenhouses radiating out from the center like arms, everyone was covered with the fine rusty grit. They moved along the translucent shells of the greenhouses and Spence could see flashes of green from within, completely out of keeping with the dullness of their surroundings.
The occupants of two other landing pods had already reached the installation and were pulling tractors with high, wide wheels out of hemispherical sheds. Cadets under the direction of project leaders were heading back to the pods to begin hauling in the provisions. The rest were given chores to do to ready the installation once more for human occupancy. Spence, Adjani, and Packer entered the bomb-shelter entrance of the barracks and made their way through the tube to the air lock and to the installation’s nerve center.
Packer took off his helmet and inhaled deeply. “Ahh! Smell that fresh air! It comes from the greenhouses.”
Spence took his helmet off as Packer waved his hand over a console set in the wall near the air lock. Lights winked on in a ring around the circular room. Overhead a shield peeled away to allow sunlight to enter and warm the interior of the sunken sphere. “All the conveniences of home,” said Packer.
“If your home happens to be Antarctica,” quipped Adjani.
“Think of it! In a few years this whole area will be nothing but greenhouses as far as the eye can see. We’ll turn this place into a jungle of life—careful, of course, to introduce only the most beneficial of plants and organisms. The place will be a paradise.”
“It’s too late,” said Spence. “You’re here already.”
“Look what you’ve done to him, Adjani! He’s as bad as you are. Why am I treated like this? What have I done to deserve it?”
He broke off his wounded-elephant act to direct them around the cavernous interior of the living unit. “Come on, I’ll show you where to hang your hats.”
Spence glanced at the wall console where a crimson signal had bloomed in one corner. “Does that red light mean anything?”
“What’s that? Oh, that one. It’s a meteorological signal. Must be a special weather report coming in.” He keyed a code on the console’s pad. The data screen lit up green and began scrolling sentences.
“There’s a Simoom blowing up near the equator. It could reach us by tomorrow morning. We’ll have to stay inside a few days at least and keep the shields up.”
“A Simoom?”
“A storm—wind and sand. A sandstorm such as you’ve never seen before. It’s like a gigantic sandblaster. Winds up to four hundred and eighty kilometers an hour. If anyone were to wander out there in that—why, you’d be erased in seconds! Provided you weren’t blown clean away first.”
“Incredible,” said Adjani. He looked around at the superstructure of the building.
“Don’t worry,” laughed Packer. “These structure are wind-tunnel tested and the shields can withstand anything short of a direct nuclear attack. We’re safe enough inside. We just have to stay undercover until it blows itself out.”
BY NIGHTFALL ALL THE provisions and equipment frames were stored away and the barracks hummed with life; the interior of the dome resembled an ant colony. They ate a common meal and then split off into their work groups to begin mapping out the tasks for the following days. Spence and Adjani, without any direct assignment, stole away to the director’s lounge to relax and talk.
Spence noticed that Adjani had stuck close to him since they landed and even now regarded him with a watchful eye.
“Do you think the Dream Thief will try something tonight?” he asked as Adjani came to stand beside him. He gazed down at a holographic map of the Martian landscape encompassing the region thirty kilometers in a circle around the installation.
“I was thinking how great the mountain is—Olympus Mons. Twice the size of Everest. Why? Do you feel something?”
“No, but you’ve been my shadow ever since we landed; I wondered if there was a reason.”
Spence recalled the conversation between them and the plan they had agreed upon. He was to alert Adjani the moment he felt anything at all peculiar beginning to happen to him. Adjani would then take whatever steps were necessary to prevent Spence from doing any bodily injury to himself. It was a simple plan, but it would have to do until they returned to Gotham to begin tracking down the cause of Spence’s troubles.
Adjani gazed down at the holomap. “Sinai—the desert of Moses. Here we are, wanderers in an alien wilderness, searching for a home in a foreign land. History repeats itself once more, eh?”
“I wonder if this place has a god, too?”
“Spence—” Adjani turned a solemn face to him. “You asked me if I thought the Dream Thief would come again tonight. The answer is yes, I do think so. He has left you alone during the trip, but I think it likely he will try to reach you. We must presume he will try tonight.”
It was true, Spence had not been bothered by the dreams or blackouts since leaving Gotham. He had begun to feel that by leaving he had escaped altogether. Adjani’s mention of trouble struck a raw nerve.
“You don’t think I’m safe even here?”
“No, my friend. You will not be safe until the Dream Thief is stopped.”
“At least you believe he can be stopped. I was never so certain.”
“Of course he can be stopped. But we must keep you safe until we find the way. And remember, if I am right in my assumptions yours is not the only life in danger. Others may depend on what happens to you. We must keep you safe.”
23
SPENCE STUMBLED DOGGEDLY ACROSS a rocky, alien landscape. Over his shoulder Deimos, a beautiful, serene blue-white globe, rose full in the black sky. Spence winced in pain as needlelike shards of tiny cinders sliced the flesh from his knees. Blood bubbled from the minute tear in his surface suit.
He shivered and wrapped his arms across his chest for warmth. Staring down at his feet he saw that he stood on a barren ledge of rock, red in the glow of the rising sun. Around him lay diamonds glittering with an icy glare. With a shock he realized that they were his tears, frozen where they had fallen upon the bare rock. He raised his hands, replaced his helmet once more, and continued walking.
How long he walked or how far he did not know. High overhead white wisps of clouds like tattered veils raced through a black sky, blown on the winds of the coming storm to disappear beyond the rim of the horizon. He heard the howl of the wind as it roared through the emptiness above. He wanted to run, to see where the fragile white clouds went. But as he stirred himself, a heaviness sapped his strength. His legs would not obey. He leaned into it, felt himself pushed back as by a great hand, and realized it was the wind. Each step dragged more slowly than the last. He looked around him and saw red sand beginning to run in hissing snakes around him, blown on the gusting wind.
He crawled to the top of a
nearby dune and toppled over the other side into the wind shadow. He felt himself sliding down and down. He struggled to rise to his feet as the dry red sand sucked at his limbs. The sand rattled down on him from the crest of the dune as the wind whipped it into a stinging fury. He sank back, too cold and tired to move. The sand pelted down on him in a steady rain, burying him beneath a fine red blanket.
He screamed and his voice rang hollow in his ears. He looked and saw that he was trapped in a great glass bubble—the bubble of his helmet, now beginning to frost over on the inside from the warmth of his breath.
The sand seemed to fall out of the black sky, burying him alive. He felt the gritty sting as it pelted against his surface suit. He heard faintly the dry, bristling hiss as it struck his helmet.
He screamed again and heard the awesome ring of silence and knew that his cries could not be heard beyond his helmet. His teeth chattered with the cold which dragged him down into a lazy stupor. He was drifting to sleep. Sleep, his last great enemy, had conquered him.
SPENCE CAME TO SLOWLY, by degrees, his senses sluggish as if he had been drugged. A bright light filled his eyes so that he squinted to keep it out. When it did not go away he opened his eyes and looked around.
At first it did not occur to him where he was or in what condition. He heard his own even breathing filling his ears with a steady rhythm, and knew he wore his surface suit and helmet. But his body was stiff and frozen into a fixed position. He tried to raise one arm and found that it came free with difficulty. He raised the other arm and pushed himself gradually into a sitting position.
With a jolt he realized where he was: Mars! He had wandered out onto the surface alone. His dream had been real! His stumbling trek across the Martian landscape was no nightmare; it had happened. What is more, he remembered it, though he remembered it as a dream.
Before that, however, only blankness and unknowing: another blackout.
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